


I Heard There Was A Special Place

by misqueme



Category: Minecraft - Fandom, Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Gen, idk ill add more tags later, if i ever write more LMFAO, rip any fic i didn’t finish
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-28
Updated: 2020-10-28
Packaged: 2021-03-09 03:08:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,687
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27237802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misqueme/pseuds/misqueme
Summary: Tommy and his best friend Tubbo have been on the run for years. They trust each other with their own Vitals— in fact, they only trust each other. But maybe they can make family in a town they help to build.Or maybe they can make enemies.-NO SHIPPING REAL PEOPLE IN THIS HOUSE THANK YOU! basically au where you can regenerate after you die as long as you have a specific object that acts as your life force. based off events of the dream smp. not guaranteed to update.
Relationships: Clay | Dream & Dave | Technoblade, Dave | Technoblade & Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit, No Romantic Relationships - Relationship, Toby Smith | Tubbo & TommyInnit, Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit
Comments: 14
Kudos: 122





	1. Preface - From the Pen Of Wilbur Soot

__

_Elan Vital._

_Everyone has one. From the day of birth to the day of death, the Elan Vital remains the most important worldly object to exist to any creature._

_Of course, there is no reason why it wouldn’t be important. In fact it can hardly be called “worldly” at all, for a direct tie to a person’s soul is possibly the most otherworldly thing someone could posses._

_Perhaps in the ancient days these things didn’t exist, and that is why they are still so awe-inspiring to us all. But I think most creatures cannot imagine an existence not tied to their Elan Vital. Perhaps it has something to do with evolution, but evolution is finicky when magic is involved. Scientists disagree on the exact origin of most magics to this day._

_Anyone can preform an enchantment, with access to a magic source. It simply need to be learned. But Elan Vital is not something that can be learned. It’s just developed._

_Most texts seem to agree that the Elan Vital is developed between the ages of seven to twelve. For the first ten years of a child’s life, their parents are extremely over protective— hovering around a being who’s existence is as fragile as glass, without a properly developed Elan Vital. Of course once you have developed one, your existence is still just as fragile, but not at least you feel better about your insurance._

_I personally have died very few times over the course of my existence, and I’m not even one of the fanatics who keeps their Elan Vital in a heavily protective underground bunker. Of course, I am not an idiot either, so it’s usually kept away from careless young kids. It’s in my hand right now, actually; I am studying it in the light coming through my desk window._

_There are not many rules for what an Elan Vital can be, to my knowledge. But according to scientific research one’s Vital is almost always a single inanimate object. It’s also impossible for anyone else besides the owner to discern whether it is an Elan Vital. The owner themself gets a strong sentimental and complete understanding of the object’s importance as it is developing and afterward._

_I have heard of people using their Elan Vitals as a proposal gift. This is incredibly stupid in my opinion— why on earth would you give someone your life to hold in their hands? Isn’t marriage far enough already? But I guess that’s not my business._

_I have heard that most Kings have secret treasure rooms that only unlock from the inside to keep theirs in. Us common folk make due with our locked chests. Once, I was killed by a shot from some soldiers in the Kingdom of Lockerbie— I woke up a day later in my small hovel beside my desk. What an odd experience. Although I do not remember the life beyond death, I did have a feeling of time passing. Very disorienting. Quite similar to falling asleep. (There was a different time I died and mine was in the possession of a good friend of mine called Nihachu. It took much longer for me to come back, out of the subconscious discomfort from reviving around another person.)_

_There are rumors that the self-proclaimed ruler of Ambition Isle— a man who calls himself Dream— does not have an Elan Vital. These are simply rumors, because even children know that the possession of a Vital is what makes one sentient. It’s how we differentiate between monsters and fellow creatures._

_The sunlight is gone, so I will be done with my musings for tonight. I will also remember to tuck mine away. I do not fancy being murdered in the night by the wind blowing my very soul off the desk as easily as a paper cup._

_Signing off,_

_Wilbur_


	2. Ambition Isle Welcomes New Residents

“They say he’s got the magic of Creation in his hands, you know, Tommy. Like a god.”

Tommy Innit stares off into the sea, his chin resting soundly in his hand as he leans on the rail of the ferry. The mist is blown into his face, making his cheeks bite with cold and soaking his blonde hair. But it’s been so long he almost can’t feel it anymore, and they’ll be on land soon anyway. Hopefully he’ll be able to get new clothes— these old ragged things he managed to steal in the Kingdom of Swapnil weren’t really doing it for him.

He doesn’t respond. Beside him, his very best friend in the world, who he’d known for all of two months, Tubbo, puffs out his cheeks in mild annoyance at being ignored. His brown hair is stuck to his head from the sea spray.

“I’m serious, Tommy! And I once heard that he’s not even got a Vital.”

Tommy squints against the bitter sting of the sea, sighing just loud enough that his partner in crime can hear. 

“Are you actually stupid, Tubbo? Of course Dream’s got an Elan Vital. He would be a monster without one.”

Tubbo pounces onto the response with an odd combination of anxiety and excitement, tugging on the strings of their shared rusack. 

“That’s the thing, Tommy! Maybe he’s not even human. I’ve heard he doesn’t show his face.”

“How the hell do you become ruler of an Isle without showing your face? Think with your brain.”

Tubbo pouts a little bit, but gets over it in about a second as he spots something through the fog. He shoves himself into Tommy as he points.

“I think that’s the dock!”

“You’re right.”

As the ship docks, Tommy helps Tubbo sneak past the two ferryman unloading barrels. They slide down onto the rocky beach below, quietly grinning to themselves at the smell of adventure in the sea air.

“And this is just the docks! Imagine what the whole city looks like!”

——

“You know, Tommy, somehow when we talked about Ambition City, I always pictured it with more...”

Tubbo gazes at the wide rolling fields crossed with a snaking river around the Isle.

“City.”

Tommy rubs his temples with both hands, feeling a sort of headache coming on. 

“I have to agree with you, big man. This is not... at all what we pictured.”

“Those stupid orphans always talked it up so much!” Tubbo complains, dropping their bag on the floor. Tommy winces, it’s got some fragile contents in it.

“You’re a stupid orphan.”

“Hey!”

Tommy puts his hands on his hips and squints until he spots some structures in the distance. “There. There’s some buildings. Let’s go talk to the townsfolk.”

Tubbo scoops up their belongings and follows after his taller friend and Tommy begins trekking uphill. 

“Tommy, it’s gonna be a lot harder to hide that we haven’t exactly got papers or qualifications in a small town like this.”

“How’s that my fault?! I figured we could just be street rats here like before!”

Tommy stalks along in silence, huffing as he nears the civilization. It seems like there are several wooden houses built, not created to be outstanding, but at least looking professional and sound. Tommy scoffs. This isn’t what he’d imagined the infamous Dream’s nation to look like.

Rumors differed about where exactly Dream came from. Some people swear that he was an exiled prince, and others said he was a thief on the run from an entire kingdom’s manhunt. Whatever the case, Dream has risen through the ranks as he’d beaten some of the world’s greatest fighters in tournaments around the world. Everyone who was anyone had heard about him somehow, even if they didn’t realize.

A few month ago Dream had declared an old and unused peninsula as his territory, setting up the Isle to be his own kingdom. Nobody else held claim to it or even particularly cared, so he and a few close friends were able to establish Ambition City without much problem. 

According to most people, Dream has rules to follow, but otherwise didn’t care much about what people built in his land. This was why talk of it had spread to the alleyways where orphans like Tubbo and runaways like Tommy lurked— it was rumored to be a good place to start a new life. Tommy hadn’t realized that meant the place was still just a small folk town. It hardly deserved to be called a city if that was the case!

“Who’s the guy we’re supposed to be finding, Tubbo? The pharmacist or whatever?”

Tubbo opens the sack and shuffles around in it for a second before producing a worn and folded up piece of paper. He sticks the bag under his arm in order to use both hands to unfold it, peering very hard at the writing.

Tommy gives Tubbo a good few seconds to attempt to sound out the words before he loses his patience and simply snatches it away without a word.

“‘Soot, Wilbur’. I guess we’ve got to find his house?”

“Find who’s house?” Asks a voice behind them, and both boys jump with natural fright. Tubbo clutches his bag to his chest and Tommy steps in front of him protectively.

“Relax,” says the strange man. And Tommy loosens his shoulders, but he doesn’t actually relax. Because this is quite honestly one of the oddest people he’s ever seen.

The man wears the outfit of a bounty hunter. A dark green hood, belts with weapons and potions wrapped around his trousers, and tall protective boots. Over the shawl he has thin silver gauntlets, and a chest plate that matches.

But weirdest of all is that his hood is not just hiding his hair. He’s got a circular mask, much like the kind used in plays, covering his face. On the mask is a childishly drawn smily face.

Tommy can’t see the man’s eyes or mouth at all, and it’s decidedly creepy. So creepy, in fact, that he takes another step backward. Just out of precaution, not fear.

“Hello there, boys,” the voice says again, but the smiley expression doesn’t change at all. And it sends chills down Tommy’s spine.

“Welcome to my land. My name is Dream.”

**Author's Note:**

> yell at me on tumblr @ relaxxationattack if you wanna lol
> 
> this is not guaranteed to update ever but it was a plot bunny that i will not mind elaborating in if anyone wants!


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